Flavors of Happiness
by prospectkiss
Summary: Happiness comes in many flavors. From sweet memories to bitter lessons learned, Phoenix notices the more meaningful and delicious moments in his relationships. But most especially, Phoenix recognizes just how much better life tastes with Edgeworth at his side.
1. Flavors of Happiness

**Flavors of Happiness**

"Okay Miles, I'll see you tonight."

Phoenix tightened his fingers around the hand clasped against his palm. The past hour had flown by, a whirl of food and lighthearted conversation at one of Edgeworth's favorite cafés. There was something exhilarating about getting the Chief Prosecutor to escape his office for a lunchtime rendezvous. It reminded him of the earlier days of their relationship, when they scrambled to catch a free moment together amidst their hectic schedules.

He shifted his box of leftovers to one hand and pressed a swift kiss to his partner's cheek, reveling in the fleeting sensation of smooth skin and the heady scent of cologne.

Edgeworth immediately ducked his head, a pink tinge coloring the parts of his cheeks still visible behind his bangs. Phoenix felt his heartbeat quicken; there was a part of him that simmered with delight to see his partner flustered. After all this time, Miles could still become embarrassed by public displays of affection.

Even if those acts occurred in the empty hallway outside his Agency.

Emboldened by that flush, Phoenix placed his palm against Edgeworth's face and turned it back up, moving in for a more proper farewell – and a more intimate kiss – before any protest could escape the other man.

He would never tire of those thin lips, brushing against his with a rough sort of gentleness, slow and precise. Phoenix let his fingers drift into soft, silky bangs, careful not to muss them too terribly. Wondering just how far he could goad the prosecutor, he let his jaw drop open, knowing Edgeworth could not resist the invitation. The hesitant touch of their tongues sent electrifying currents through his veins. So close, it was impossible to miss the rumble of Edgeworth's low, barely voiced groan.

He pulled away just enough to smile against Edgeworth's lips, delighting in the quick pants of breath that ghosted over his face. "Maybe we shouldn't wait for tonight."

Preoccupied with this little victory, Phoenix was caught off guard when Edgeworth suddenly drew in a deep breath and pushed forward, crowding him against the office door's frosted glass. He nearly dropped his leftovers in surprise as Edgeworth removed his glasses and tucked them into his jacket pocket, those grey eyes dark and intense and wholly focused on _him_. Edgeworth wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling them flush, and resumed their kiss with fervor.

How easily they could turn the tables on one another.

Miles slipped his tongue along the inside of Phoenix's lower lip, tracing with deliciously agonizing heat, probably enjoying the way Phoenix's knees threatened to give way beneath them. His knee had slid in between Phoenix's thighs, pinning him in place and allowing him no room to shift or to hide how much he enjoyed Edgeworth's attention. Phoenix could barely suppress a shudder when those teeth grazed teasingly against his kiss-swollen lip.

His thoughts froze completely, whited-out in a pleasant shock, when Edgeworth dipped low and left a final, brazen nip beneath his earlobe.

Well. That plan had backfired in the most wonderful manner.

Edgeworth cleared his throat, leaning away with a sly smirk.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Wright."

The gaze that met him was strong, almost smug. That magnificent bastard. Phoenix was going to have a difficult time waiting until they could be alone again tonight, with thoughts of that kiss distracting him. He knew it; more importantly, he knew that _Edgeworth_ knew it.

Edgeworth nodded once, sharply, and headed back toward the stairwell, fingers already fishing his car keys out of his trouser pocket. He moved purposefully, all authority and confidence, the strong line of his back receding down the hall. Without turning around, he lifted a hand and tilted it.

How did Edgeworth manage to make a parting _wave_ seem suave?

Phoenix took a few long, deep breaths and shook his head, attempting to clear the pleasantly fuzzy thoughts from it, and chuckled to himself. With a lingering echo of warmth against his lips, he unlocked the door and headed inside.

"Welcome back," Athena greeted, startling the daylights out of Phoenix. He'd thought she had left the office for lunch as he did. Instead, she was leaning back in her desk chair, munching on a meager-looking sandwich with the crumbs leaving a light trail across her paperwork.

His heart nearly leapt into his throat; it was entirely possible she had heard the two of them in their less-than-professional moment outside.

She raised one eyebrow, concerned. "Boss? Did you have a good lunch?"

"Y-Yeah," he answered, desperately trying not to dwell on the impromptu make-out, feeling like a teenager. He rubbed his palm at the back of his neck before he could stop himself, heart still pounding.

Her mouth split into a knowing grin.

"Yes, it was nice," he said more definitively, letting his tone close the topic before she could glean any lurid details. He deposited the take-away container on the corner of her desk. "Here, you can have the rest."

His gambit worked; she immediately abandoned her sandwich, and her imminent teasing, and lunged for the box.

"Thanks!" Widget lit up in a bright green shade around her neck. She opened the container, inhaled the tasty aroma, and pulled the plastic silverware out with relish. "This is gonna be tasty!"

Sometimes it seemed the only use his wallet ever got was to feed young women. Memories of dinners with Maya and Pearl years ago flit through his head, along with all the times he'd unwittingly footed the bill. And there was Trucy, of course, he could never deny her a treat. And Ema, he bought her the occasional snack. Athena, too.

…How often had he ever bought food for Apollo?

Perhaps he should start letting others buy _him_ a meal or two. At least this time the food came at Edgeworth's expense.

"You know, I'm glad you started sharing more lunches with the Chief Prosecutor."

His attention snapped back, a little astounded Athena dared to mock him even after such a generous culinary bribe. He had hoped he was at a point in his life where he could live without his subordinates ridiculing him all the time. But there were no suggestive winks or eyebrow wiggles; she just enthusiastically dove into the food. Her words were genuine – heartfelt, even.

"That's because you like getting the scraps afterwards," he finally chided, more bemused than reprimanding.

"Well, that _is_ a nice bonus," she agreed, a gleam in her eyes reminiscent of Maya. "But that's not the only reason. It's because of the tone I hear in your heart, afterwards."

Now it was his turn to lift an eyebrow, curious. "What kind of tone?"

"Oh, you know. A happy one."

He cocked his head, waiting for her to elaborate.

She paused, fork halfway to her mouth, and gulped down her current bite. "When we first met I could hear a lot of unhappy emotions from you. There was so much sadness and anger, you know?"

At his flat look, she hurried on.

"For good reason! Because you were – um." She wisely cut herself off, choosing not to spoil their afternoon with discussion of Phoenix's previous disbarment. "Yeah. Anyway. But ever since I've been here, those currents of negative emotion have ebbed away, replaced more and more with positive feelings."

"I don't see what that has to do with lunch."

She took a more thoughtful nibble, searching for the right words to explain her meaning.

"When you watch Trucy, your heart fills with a doting kind of happiness. When you get a call from Apollo there's a note of pride in your voice, and you sound like an exuberant kid when you talk with Maya Fey."

He scoffed; _she_ had clearly never had the pleasure of trading gossip with the Kurain leader.

She forged ahead, undeterred. "I hear this satisfied relief from you after a good trial. And whenever you're around the Chief Prosecutor, well, your heart practically sings."

" _It's incredibly sappy!"_ Widget suddenly shouted, its face a bright pink.

Athena fidgeted with the medallion, a slight flush crossing her face, while Phoenix brought his hand to his chin, considering.

She gestured at her abandoned food. "It's like this sandwich," she said, valiantly ignoring her gadget's interjection. "Yeah, it does the job, but it could be better. But _this_ –" She pointed at the gourmet leftovers. "– _This_ is all kinds of scrumptious."

She swept away the sandwich and triumphantly planted the fork in her new meal.

"Your heart's gone from dull to delicious, Boss, full of the flavors of happiness."

"…Whatever you say, Athena." Phoenix gave her an indulgent laugh, and in return she shooed him away to eat in peace.

Back at his own desk, he was utterly unable to concentrate on his work, just as he'd suspected. However, his distraction was not _entirely_ due to Edgeworth. Instead, he found himself mulling over Athena's words, reflecting on how much his life had changed in the past few years and the contentment he had gained.

Maybe it was because of the taste of Miles still on his lips, but his thoughts latched onto her flavor metaphor. He trusted Athena's gift for listening to feelings, for hearing the subtle changes in a person's emotions. He had grown accustomed to her discussing the sounds of the heart.

But the flavors?

What exactly were the flavors of happiness?


	2. Sweet

**Sweet**

 _This was the flavor of happiness: the taste of sweetness, creamy and light._

"What do you mean, you don't have a favorite?"

Pearl's words were sharp with disbelief and confusion, and she stared at Phoenix in front of the parlor like he had suddenly grown a second head. Her eyes darted over to Trucy, as if to confirm such an unthinkable thing: that Phoenix Wright had no particular preference when it came to ice cream.

Phoenix felt an instinctual urge to hide, and he took a tentative step behind Edgeworth. This earned him an unimpressed scowl from his partner, and he realized he was acting foolishly. Pearl had long outgrown the tendency to lash out with a slap whenever she was angered, despite the lingering memory of her hand's sting.

To his relief, Pearl merely straightened and lowered her gaze. She chewed at her thumb tip, embarrassed at her outburst. Guilt shot through Phoenix; he hated disappointing her, even over something as silly as favorite ice cream flavors.

But before he could respond, Trucy jumped in.

"Well, he says he likes vanilla, but I think he just hasn't tried enough flavors to pick a favorite." She grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Maybe we can help him choose one now."

Pearl gasped, lighting up with delight. "That's a wonderful idea! Mister Nick can try them all here and pick the one he likes best!" She grasped Trucy's hands, the two of them bobbing on their toes in their excitement.

 _Oh no._

Years of experience had taught Phoenix that there was little chance of stopping either of them when they grew this excited over an idea. A sense of foreboding crept over him. "Wait, wait! There's no way I'm eating that many types of ice cream all at once."

He held his hands up, trying to calm them both down and wrangle back control of their outing. After all, it had been _his_ suggestion to treat them all after Trucy's afternoon show: he should be the one dictating just how much ice cream he could handle. A glance at the frozen display cases showed dozens of colorful concoctions, and already he could feel a pit forming in his stomach at the thought of eating so many fanciful flavors.

He glanced over at Edgeworth, eyebrows raised in an exasperated plea, urging his partner to rein in the girls before this idea spun out of hand. "Help me out here."

To his shock, Edgeworth simply gave him another reproachful glare. "I may not know much about ice cream, but I do know better than to come between young ladies and their desserts." He adjusted his glasses, pushing the lenses back up along his nose. The gesture was almost enough to hide the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. "And you must admit, simple vanilla is a bit… dull."

"See? Everyone agrees!" Trucy bolted into the parlor, hand waving to flag down the attendant. Pearl followed hot on her heels.

"Traitor," Phoenix grumbled, though there was no real bite in it. At least it was only ice cream. He had handled much worse in his life. If this was what made Trucy and Pearl happy right now – and if even Edgeworth went along with it…

He held the door for the prosecutor and then hurried to catch up with his daughter.

Fifteen minutes later, after Edgeworth had left a hefty number of bills in the tip jar, the four of them crammed into one of the parlor's vinyl booths: the girls seated on one side, chittering with anticipation, and he and Edgeworth together on the other. On the table between them sat three cups of ice cream. Dwarfing them all, though, was the tray of 36 sample cups and spoons, one of every ice cream variety available, sitting in front of Phoenix like a rainbow mosaic.

"I have to try all of them?" He clung to the faint hope that he could bargain the girls down to trying just a handful.

" _All_ of them," Trucy intoned, expression severe, pointing her spoon at him to emphasize her point. She and Pearl nodded solemnly.

Ice cream was indeed serious business for teenage girls.

Taking a deep breath, Phoenix let his gaze flit over the samples, deciding which one to taste first. On the bright side, if a flavor was not to his liking, it would be gone in a moment. And added together, all the samples probably amounted to one or two regular servings, so at least he would not leave with a stomach ache.

Beneath the table Edgeworth briefly laced their fingers together, holding for just a moment. The warmth of his skin was a welcome contrast to the parlor's cold air. Phoenix was not sure if the gesture was meant as an apology or as encouragement. Perhaps it was both.

Trucy grinned with delight as he dug in.

It turned out, after the first handful of samples, that all the ice cream flavors started to blend together for him. By the time he reached the middle of the tray he could hardly discern any difference between maraschino cherry and raspberry ripple, butter pecan and butterscotch, coffee and toffee – not to mention all the varieties of chocolate. Only the textures gave him any relief: a hard bite of nut, the rough grain of a coconut strand, and the occasional chewy cookie dough helped relieve the numbness on his tongue.

Everything swirled together into an orgy of sweetness, almost overwhelming.

So instead of concentrating on the ice cream, he observed the company around him. The two girls had launched into a friendly but heated debate about their favorite ice cream flavors. They were ostensibly trying to convince Phoenix which kind was better, but their efforts were more directed toward each other.

He smiled as Pearl held her ground, the same strength she'd shown as a child tempered with her growing knowledge of the world around her. And Trucy, well, his daughter could captivate any audience, and by the time their cups were empty she had laid out her side with as much aplomb as any of her magic tricks. Their efforts reminded him of his courtroom battles: Edgeworth the immovable prosecutor holding fast against his unstoppable bluffs.

Perhaps it was just his parenting instincts kicking in, but he hoped that his and Miles's experience could live on in the next generation, too.

A swell of pride bubbled into his chest as he realized how much Pearl and Trucy had grown, and what wonderful young women they were becoming. Here in the ice cream parlor, sharing a moment of childish indulgence, only highlighted how much they had truly matured over the years.

As for Edgeworth, his partner idly spooned his mint-flavored ice cream as he watched the two ladies with a keen gleam in his eye, keeping track of whose points were most persuasive. His lips curled up in a fond smile now and then, especially when one of them made an insightful argument. There was something undeniably sweet in how these two could bring out the sentimental side of the usually unflappable man.

Contentment swept over Phoenix, sinking deep into him, through him, filling him with enough heat to counter the ice creams' chill. He squeezed Edgeworth's hand again, sharing a look with his partner over the rim of the other man's glasses.

The warm gaze he received in return could melt glaciers.

"You're down to the last one, Mister Nick!" Pearl grinned at him, all teeth and excitement.

Three empty bowls sat discarded on the table, surrounded by dozens of tiny crumpled cups and spoons. Only one tiny bit of ice cream remained.

"You saved the best for last, riiiiight?" Trucy nudged the final cup closer to him – one that she had subtly maneuvered out of his reach until now, diverting his attention to other flavors with expert misdirection. She was staring at him intently. As he in turn looked down at the pink-colored dessert, he realized she had saved her own favorite until the end.

He could almost hear the words she was trying to coax from him: _Yes Trucy, the strawberry flavor is unquestionably supreme._

With a flourish, he picked up the spoon and finished off the tray.

All eyes rested on him.

"Well Daddy, what's the verdict?"

He diligently let the ice cream finish melting on his tongue.

"I dunno, Truce," he said at last, letting an impish tone seep into his voice. Knowing exactly the kind of protest he was about to receive – and relishing it – he smirked and braced his hands on his hips: "I still think I like just plain vanilla."

One would think he had canceled Christmas.

"That's no fun, Mister Nick!"  
"You can't be serious!"  
"Really, Wright, after all that?"  
"You were supposed to choose something new!"  
"Daddy, that's so _boring!"_

"What can I say?" He raised his palms in surrender, chuckling. "I guess I'm just old-fashioned."

Beside him, Edgeworth let out a noise that suspiciously sounded like a snort, stifled beneath an abrupt cough. Phoenix gave him a half-hearted glare; the man had no room to judge, considering the Edwardian-era ruffles _he_ proudly wore.

Trucy let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes. "Or maybe you're just _old_. My old, embarrassing Daddy!" But her smile was somewhere between long-suffering and indulgent. She scooted out of the vinyl and stepped to his side of the booth, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a tight hug. "We love you anyway, though."

"Love you all, too."

* * *

The girls scampered off into Trucy's room as soon as they arrived home to pack for an impromptu Kurain sleepover. This left the adults with the task of putting away the cartons of ice cream Edgeworth had been conned into purchasing. Even the Demon Prosecutor proved susceptible to two pairs of adoring eyes, pleading for more like a scene out of Dickens.

Phoenix passed the containers one by one to Edgeworth to stack in the kitchen freezer, awaiting the next celebration – or until temptation got the better of someone. A pint for each of them, plus a few extra for frequent visitors: strawberry, green tea, the much-maligned vanilla…

Edgeworth shut the freezer and stared at the vanilla container in his hands with a contemplative expression. He sidled over to Phoenix and reached around him into the utensil drawer.

"Ugh, how can you eat more?"

Phoenix made a face as Edgeworth popped the lid and spooned out a small amount. While Edgeworth possessed a sweet tooth, the overabundance of ice cream at the parlor had left Phoenix slightly nauseous. Now that they had a moment alone Phoenix slumped against his partner, shoulders brushing, hands settling at his hips. The contact did much to soothe his stomach.

He felt even better when Edgeworth leaned against him as well, set the pint on the counter, and wrapped a hand around his waist.

"Has your palette recovered yet?" Edgeworth asked mildly, and brought the spoon to his lips. That deliberate, bland inflection raised goosebumps along Phoenix's neck. It was the same tone his partner used in court, the one when he was about to introduce an updated piece of evidence and demolish his argument. _Or_ when he would raise an unexpected objection and save his case. Either way, Phoenix felt a familiar tug in his chest: anticipation.

"Nope. And don't think I'm gonna forget any time soon that _you_ encouraged them. It's gonna be a while before I ever eat ice cream again."

Edgeworth's palm was warm through Phoenix's dress shirt, thumb brushing across his back in smooth, distracting movements. Another spoonful of vanilla disappeared into his mouth. "I take little pleasure in watching you suffer. Though I _was_ expecting you to come away with a new appreciation for some other flavor, for their sake."

Phoenix let his silence speak for him.

"You, on the other hand, take entirely too _much_ pleasure in antagonizing them," Edgeworth lightly scolded. His hand moved in small circles down to Phoenix's lower back.

"It's only fair I get in a little fun when you all decide to torture me."

Edgeworth darted his eyes to the entryway, as if making sure they were truly alone in the kitchen. His hand slipped lower still, fingers squeezing around the curve of Phoenix's ass. His voice dropped into a quiet, salacious murmur.

"Perhaps you'll allow me make it up to you, then." Edgeworth took in another spoonful of ice cream, and then immediately tilted his head for a kiss.

The chill of his lips caused Phoenix to gasp, and Edgeworth opened his mouth as well.

 _Ahh!_

The half-melted ice cream flowed into his mouth. The cold posed a delicious contrast to the heat of Edgeworth's mouth, adding an exciting new dimension to the kiss. It slipped along his tongue, sliding between the two of them; each sought the ice cream in the other's mouth, chasing it, lips pressing tight. There was something decadent, and unexpectedly appealing, in wrapping their tongues together to share the taste so intimately.

Phoenix let out a moan as Edgeworth gripped him harder and pulled him closer.

Reduced to liquid sweetness, the ice cream rendered the kiss messier than usual: a little more chaotic, a bit sloppy, utterly _delicious_. As Edgeworth pulled away a trickle of vanilla escaped down his chin. Phoenix pressed his lips to that last remnant, following the trail with the point of his tongue.

Irresistible.

He may have slightly favored vanilla before; now, the flavor was becoming inextricably entwined with the sensation of _Miles_. Distantly, he wondered if Edgeworth had planned this all along.

"It would be a shame if this experience spoiled you on ice cream," Edgeworth managed, a little breathless. He lifted a finger beneath Phoenix's jaw so that their eyes could meet; those endless grey depths were mesmerizing. "Let me indulge you."

A shiver ran down his spine.

Edgeworth smiled, and his voice stayed low with the promise of a most devious evening. "Besides, we both know your tastes are quite the _opposite_ of vanilla."


	3. Savory

**Savory**

 _This was the flavor of happiness: a savory taste, strong and sumptuous._

Phoenix leaned back on his cushion, wincing as he rested his haunches against the backs of his calves and tried to ignore the protest from his spine. Even after all this time, he had never quite gotten accustomed to the floor seats, the _zabuton_ , here in Fey Manor. Even if Kurain Village had begun embracing more modern technology since Maya had become the Master, there were some traditions she was loathe to part with.

Fortunately she had taken pity on him and his aching back, and was out searching the grounds for a cushion with a little more plush.

Beside him, Edgeworth sat primly upon his own pillow without complaint, sipping his green tea from a delicate porcelain cup. He glanced over, sympathy softening his gaze, and placed a hand on Phoenix's knee.

Though he did not visit Kurain nearly as often as Phoenix did, Edgeworth seemed quite comfortable here in the dining hall, amongst the low light and the elderly tapestries and dark wooden walls. Phoenix suspected that, though he would never admit it, there was a part of the prosecutor that appreciated the slower pace and the more tranquil atmosphere of the village. It was a place of respite for both of them – that is, when all was well with the Feys.

And things were certainly going well now. Phoenix could almost forget his pain when presented with this… feast. A cornucopia of dishes sat on the low square table before them, steam rising beneath the ceramic lids. The mouthwatering aromas suffused the dining hall like incense: bread rolls, buttery vegetables, warm spices.

But most of all, there was the scent of meat. An extraordinary amount of meat.

For a meal meant for just the three of them, the number of dishes seemed extravagant. Phoenix hadn't expected the description of a 'celebratory banquet' to be quite so literal. He could barely keep himself from salivating at the delicious scents.

Fortunately, it took only a minute more of torture – of both the postural and aromatic varieties – for Maya to burst back into the hall, heaving for breath. Clutched between her fingers was an enormous red-and-white pillow.

"Hope this one works for you, Nick," she panted, holding it out. Phoenix exchanged the cushion beneath him and realized Maya had run all the way back to her sleeping quarters just to fetch him her old _Steel Samurai_ -themed double-stuffed pillow. Grateful, he tucked it beneath his legs.

"Is that a _vintage_ –" Edgeworth abruptly closed his mouth and turned his head away at Phoenix's raised eyebrow.

"It's from when I was a kid," Maya explained, returning to her side of the table. "But I guess it works for old men, too," she added with a conspicuous wink.

He rolled his eyes; how many times had he been called _old_ recently? He didn't even have any grey hair, unlike _some_ people. "I thought you were supposed to be honoring us or something, not insulting us."

"Aw, can't I do both?" She stuck her tongue out, and Phoenix was reminded of her teenage self.

But then she knelt down onto her _zabuton_ and cleared her throat. She sat up straight, hands out in front of her, her face melting into a serene countenance. She looked at each of them, her gaze boring into them as if she could see into their very souls. All of them fell silent, the air thickening.

Ah – this was Maya as the Master. Sometimes it was startling how much wisdom she could hold in her eyes.

She let out a long breath, and angled herself toward Edgeworth. "Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth. On behalf of Kurain Village, thank you for your aid in the Kingdom of Khura'in all those months ago. The Fey Clan, and the Master, are grateful for your assistance. You are forever welcome, and forever a friend and ally."

Edgeworth dipped his head low, sweeping his arm out in a respectful bow. "It is my duty to provide whatever assistance I can in service of the truth."

His partner handled formalities quite well, at home with the dignified speech from Maya that sounded so strange to Phoenix's own ears. Still, he couldn't deny the proud warmth that seeped through his chest at both Maya's pronouncement and Edgeworth's gracious acceptance.

Maya then turned to Phoenix and drew in another long breath, focusing, and let it out. "Mister Phoenix Wright. On behalf of not only Kurain Village, but of all of the Fey Clan, thank you for all of your aid in the Kingdom of Khura'in. You put your own life on the line to see justice done, not just for the Master or the Fey family line, but for an entire country."

Edgeworth stiffened at his side, his expression flickering into something more stoic.

If Maya noticed, she gave no indication. "You remain forever welcome, a dear friend and ally." She paused, her shoulders dropping. To Phoenix's astonishment tears welled at the corners of her eyes and she swallowed hard. "Thank you Nick, for always being there for me."

It was a though a fire was lit beneath his _zabuton_. Forget formality; Phoenix jumped to his feet and rushed over to Maya, enveloping her in a hug. Her arms wound around his waist, clinging back just as fiercely. She only let go for one brief instant to wave Edgeworth over too. Phoenix's heart felt fit to burst as Edgeworth joined their embrace, with only minimal reluctance and embarrassed noises.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the hall came from their gentle breathing and Maya's occasional sniffle. They held tightly to one another, a trio of desperation and relief, anxiety and joy.

"Okay," Maya finally said, reluctantly pulling back. She used the back of her hand to discreetly wipe at her eyes, and ushered them back to their seats. As they resettled – and Phoenix pretended not to notice the jealous glance from Edgeworth as he lowered himself onto the _Steel Samurai_ cushion – she began uncovering the plates on the table.

"We're still rebuilding our name here and all, so I couldn't give you the parade I really wanted. But even if it's taken a while, I still had to give you both _something_ to say thanks. And what better way to celebrate than with food! Go on, dig in!"

If there was one thing Phoenix could say about Kurain, aside from the spirit channeling and the blood-soaked family feuds and their traditional ways, it was that they certainly knew how to _cook_. Maya loaded up her plate with enough burgers and steak to supply a small butcher, her arms trembling beneath the weight. Phoenix followed her example, piling on bits of nearly every dish until he could no longer glimpse his plate. Edgeworth showed the most restraint, though even he indulged in a few larger-than-usual servings.

He took a bite of one of the burgers, enjoying the burst of delicious, meaty flavor.

"Let me know what you think! I helped out in the kitchens this time. With the meat, of course." Maya shot them a pleased grin, before tearing into her beleaguered plate like a starving predator.

Phoenix's eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead. For all that Maya enjoyed food, she'd never been one to _prepare_ it. He considered her again, head tilting in thought.

She must have really wanted to make this special.

As large as the dining hall was, there was something quite cozy sharing a home-cooked meal between just the three of them, feasting in celebration. He looked forward to more times like this in the future, all the meals and memories and laughter he could share with one of his dearest friends.

With everything that had happened in his life, Phoenix knew to savor a hard-won victory.

* * *

Just as the Fey Manor dining hall still used traditional _zabuton_ , the guest rooms were also filled with _futons_ for sleeping, neatly packed and ready to be rolled out onto the floor.

Well. His back was going to be aching anyway.

Edgeworth had been unusually quiet for the remainder of the evening. Phoenix had hardly noticed during dinner, as occupied as he was with Maya's crazy training stories and sharing his own misadventures in the Agency.

But now, without the steady stream of conversation to distract him, Phoenix realized just how taciturn his partner had become.

He pursed his lips in thought as he helped Edgeworth roll the thin mattress out, tucking the quilt along the end and haphazardly tossing the pillows on top. They were both tired from the long drive and the heavy foods. Maybe it was best to wait for Edgeworth to bring up whatever was bothering him in the morning, and he'd be ready to help however he could.

For the moment, Maya's meal had been enough to render Phoenix nearly comatose, and he was looking forward to sleeping it off all wrapped inside the soft blankets.

As soon as he peeled out of his suit, clad in just his boxers and a thin tee-shirt, he flopped onto the _futon_ and curled around one of the pillows, eyelids drooping. A few moments later he felt the starchy press of pajamas as Edgeworth nestled into the space beside him.

"You are always going to risk your life, aren't you?"

The words were quiet. Not timid, not as though Edgeworth was trying to hide them. Instead, it sounded like Edgeworth was _confirming_ them. Something in his tone made Phoenix turn around, staving off sleep until he could understand what Miles meant.

Edgeworth lay on his side, facing Phoenix. The moonlight streaming through the bamboo slats cast long shadows, obscuring most of the room from sight. But Phoenix could still see his partner perfectly. That expression – such a solemn look in his eyes, full of a far-away melancholy.

"M-Miles?" Phoenix felt as though his breath had been stolen from him.

It came back in a heady gasp when Edgeworth raised his hand and gently rested his palm against Phoenix's cheek, one side of his mouth turning up sadly.

"You were sentenced to die. You knew it could happen, yet you stood in that courtroom anyway. Because you believed you could help. It's who you are," Edgeworth said softly, lips wrapping around each word like a mournful confession. His eyes closed. "And I will never be able to stop you."

Phoenix opened his mouth to object, but the words died on his tongue. How could he argue that?

"I am… selfish, Phoenix. I fear the day you will not rise again."

Before he could respond, Miles leaned forward and captured his lips in a kiss. It was short and direct, a punctuation rather than an elaboration, leaving Phoenix with his heart in his throat. As Edgeworth pulled back, he felt his own voice crack.

"I-I'm sorry."

"I know."

He truly did have a tendency to fly into fire without considering the consequences. One day the blaze would consume him, and he would lose more than just his badge.

One day he might really lose his life.

...And then where would Edgeworth be? Where would _Trucy_ be? Or Maya, or Pearl, or anyone else he cared for in his life?

Before the panic could fully smother him inside his chest, Edgeworth leaned in again, touching their foreheads together. His hand still cupped Phoenix's face. This close, he could see Edgeworth's throat bob, swallowing hard before he spoke again, voice low and rough.

"It's one of the many reasons I love you."

The room remained silent, the moment suspended in time. Even the air itself stilled, as though the village and the night and all other things had faded, and only the two of them were left to encompass the world.

Miles was seldom so candid. Rarer still were those precious words.

Phoenix's mouth was still fallen slack in shock when Edgeworth tilted his chin down to meet him again. All at once his senses returned; the touch of cool air on his skin, the sounds of crickets floating through the window – but the roar of his pounding heart and the taste of Miles blanked all thought from his mind.

Their lips never parted, even when Phoenix wrapped his arms around Edgeworth and pulled them flush together. The kiss never ebbed, even as Phoenix slipped open the buttons on Edgeworth's pajama shirt and pushed it from his shoulders. Their mouths kept moving, breaths hot and fervent, as Edgeworth traced his palm down the side of Phoenix's body.

When at last Edgeworth drew away, it was only to drag Phoenix's tee-shirt above his head.

But instead of immediately returning to Phoenix's mouth Edgeworth descended, tracing his lips down Phoenix's neck and chest, pressing slow, heavy kisses to his flushed skin and leaving a warm, wet trail in his wake. Each touch of his lips, each grasp of his fingers set Phoenix alight, leaving him with nothing but a bright, fiery passion – a burning love for his partner, for _Miles_.

Phoenix could feel the truth of those treasured words in the hard glide of Edgeworth's hands down to his hips. It echoed in his thoughts as Edgeworth tugged his boxers down and maneuvered between his knees, pushing his legs apart with purpose. He felt his heart respond in kind, Miles's name spilling out of him as Edgeworth pressed a lingering kiss to the head of his cock.

 _Ahh, god._

Edgeworth took his time, every brush of his lips and slide of his tongue precisely delivered to drive Phoenix mad. He held Phoenix writhing in place with one arm set astride his hips, while his other hand kept moving, kept _touching_ : caressing his chest, stroking his thigh, cupping his sac, wrapping around the base of his cock as Edgeworth laved long, slow lines up and down. The heat from Edgeworth's breath left teasing sensations all along his length, and when at last Miles hollowed his cheeks and flattened his tongue, drawing Phoenix in as deeply as he could, Phoenix had to throw his own palm across his mouth and bite at his fingers to keep his voice under control.

Miles abruptly leaned back, and Phoenix felt his heart stutter as their gazes met. The moon cast a luminous halo over Edgeworth's smooth skin, his silvery bangs framed his face in a gentle embrace, his lips red and glistening. His eyes were dark and unfathomable, the grey depths lost in his heated stare.

Phoenix had never seen anything so heartstoppingly gorgeous in his life, ethereal and beautiful.

Edgeworth's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Let me hear you."

When Phoenix made no move, frozen in awe, Edgeworth lunged forward; braced on his elbows, his lips were at Phoenix's ear in an instant. "I want to hear you," he repeated, stronger. Phoenix shuddered, the words sending heated shivers down his spine. "I want _you_ to hear yourself. _Feel_ this, Phoenix, and remember it."

His heart beat hard in his chest as Edgeworth retreated, and his breath came in long, heavy pants as Miles took him into his mouth again.

 _Savor this_.

 _Remember it_.

His fingers carded through those silky locks, unable to stay still. His voice loosed in a high-pitched timbre, tight with the effort to stay quiet – no need to alert _everyone_ in Fey Manor. As Edgeworth resumed his movements, Phoenix closed his eyes and let all of his attention and sensation and emotion concentrate on the pleasure Edgeworth gave him.

Most of all, he _felt_ Edgeworth: the heat of his mouth, his wet lips and agile tongue, the rough texture of his palm. He felt Edgeworth's care, his worry, his frustration. His unshakable belief in Phoenix.

 _His love_.

As Phoenix arched into Miles's mouth, breath catching in his throat as Edgeworth finally brought him to completion, one phrase tumbled from his lips, desperate and sure:

"I love you."

He lay still for a long moment afterward, chest heaving and eyes shut, long enough for Edgeworth to gather the blankets and settle beside him once more. Phoenix started to turn, his fingers already fumbling for the waistline of Edgeworth's pajama pants; but Edgeworth caught his hands and gently tucked them back to Phoenix's chest.

At his questioning noise, Edgeworth shook his head. "No. This was just for you, Phoenix." Something beautiful and wistful remained in his eyes.

"Miles…"

"Get some rest," Edgeworth whispered, offering a small smile. He urged Phoenix onto his other side, and in moments Phoenix felt the warmth of Edgeworth's body pressed against his back. Edgeworth slid one arm across his waist and pressed a tender kiss to the back of his neck.

One last thought fluttered through Phoenix's mind before sleep claimed him:

 _I will remember you_.


	4. Sour

**Sour**

 _This was the flavor of happiness: a sour taste, tart and astringent on the tongue._

Phoenix stared at the board, knowing defeat was inevitable. Edgeworth had him cornered. Only a few pawns, a knight, and a bishop remained to protect his king, while most of the prosecutor's pieces remained in play.

For all the years they had been teaching each other cards and games, Edgeworth still had the upper hand when it came to chess. Phoenix had come a long way from that first bumbling game, when he had barely remembered how each piece moved and he fumbled the match in a handful of turns. But even with years of experience under his belt, he only bested the prosecutor every once in a while. It was a point of pride for his partner, evidenced by the fact that Edgeworth _could_ have replaced the board with something sleeker to match his upgraded office, but he instead chose to keep this battered set with the red and blue pieces, worn from years of victories and singular defeats.

He huffed out a resigned breath, feeling that unruly lock of hair on his forehead shake.

"You'll have to make a move at some point," Edgeworth said from behind his desk. Phoenix didn't even need to look up to know that his partner was smirking.

"Just… let me think," he mumbled, squinting and chewing on his lip. There _had_ to be a way out of this trap.

"Try not to hurt yourself."

Phoenix reached into the bag of confections in his lap and withdrew another sour piece, and popped it into his mouth. He could never pronounce the name of the lemon drops; they were some German brand, favored by Edgeworth and his sister. They were usually kept locked away in Edgeworth's bottom drawer, though he couldn't imagine anyone stealing from the Chief Prosecutor.

Well, aside from Kay.

It still shocked him how quickly his mouth puckered around the candy, but at least it kept his attention sharp. As his tongue recovered, his fragile comeback plan was shattered by a polite knock outside the door.

"Come in," Edgeworth called, shuffling aside a sheaf of papers and rising from his seat.

Ema Skye poked her head inside. "Chief Prosecutor? I have the luminol results you asked for."

Edgeworth relaxed, his features softening into something close to a fond smile, and he beckoned her over. "Let me see it."

Phoenix gave her a little wave as she strode past. "Hey, Ema."

She paused, eyes flitting over the board. "Are… Are you going to move that one?"

He gave her a blank stare. "Which one?"

"Ms. Skye, I'll thank you not to interfere in our match." Edgeworth's voice came out a tad sharp, as though she had nearly spoiled a surprise.

"Oh!" A faint pink tint bloomed across her cheeks. "I'm sorry. Here." She shoved a folder into Edgeworth's hands and turned away, staring out the broad windows.

Phoenix watched them for a moment: Edgeworth, leafing through the papers with practiced ease; and Ema, fiddling with the cuff on her jacket and trying not to tap her foot. His gaze traveled to her armband, signifying her role as a forensics investigator. She wore it proudly, treating it with as much care as he did his own badge. He could understand her feelings there; after chasing a dream for so long – and losing it – there was something comforting in keeping such a prominent physical embodiment of their achievement in peak condition.

He remembered her face when she told him she had failed the forensics exam, remembered hugging her even as the cynical part of him wondered if both of them had been cursed to fail in their goals. Over time, he'd found an unlikely confidant in his one-time assistant. Maya was often away for training, and Edgeworth had his studies in Europe, and he could never unload his burdens onto Trucy. No one else had understood his pain in quite the same way Ema did. It might have been a little unhealthy, but at least around each other they could be as sarcastic and sour and jaded as they pleased.

If life doled out lemons, sometimes it felt good to just wallow in the rinds.

But they'd made the most of their lemons, and she smiled more like she used to. Both of them did, now.

She reached into a pocket and let out a dismayed gasp when her hands came out empty. "Shoot… Must have left them at home."

Ah. Some habits still died hard.

"Here." He stretched out his arm, offering the bag of citrus candies.

Ema fished a few out and leaned over his shoulder. "Small pawns have big dreams, you know," she whispered, a conspiring grin flashing across her face. She straightened and adjusted the pink glasses perched on her head. "You shouldn't give up yet. Scientifically speaking."

…What did science have to do with chess?

"I'd hate to refer you to Prosecutor Sahdmadhi for a salary review." Edgeworth said lightly as he dropped the results beside his laptop. He folded his arms, lips twitching into a friendly – yet somehow still sinister – smile. "Or Prosecutor Gavin."

Ema's eyes widened and she stuffed several lemon drops into her mouth, wincing. Phoenix snickered.

"But thank you for your timely report," Edgeworth continued. "I wish more of our investigators had your dedication."

"Th-Thank you." Her blush jumped from pink to crimson. Old crushes died hard too, apparently. Her phone chimed and her fingers flew to it, eager to escape her embarrassment. At once her expression melted into a heartfelt smile.

"It's Lana!"

Phoenix's eyebrows shot up and he threw a glance over at Edgeworth, who looked just as surprised.

Ema beamed at them. "She's moving into her apartment and sent me a picture. Look!" She turned the screen out, and both Phoenix and Edgeworth moved closer to view the photo.

And there she was, standing amidst brown packing boxes and old furniture: Lana Skye.

The time served for legal tampering left little outward impression on her. The sunlight streaming through the apartment windows caught on little silver streaks in her chestnut hair, the most obvious sign of her imprisonment. She was a little more slender, perhaps, but she still held herself tall with careful grace. Her lips were turned up almost coyly, her expression soft and poignant, reminiscent of a portrait like the Mona Lisa. Her eyes were turned to the camera, and they were still the same deep, enigmatic blue.

It almost seemed like no time had passed at all.

Phoenix felt warmth spread through his chest. "I'm glad she's doing well."

This was the Lana he wanted to remember: not the cold, stoic client turning her back on him in the detention center, but the loving woman who could finally smile at her sister again. The photo tugged at his heart.

"Actually, um…" Ema trailed off, shoving the phone back into her pocket, eyes on the floor.

"What's wrong?" Edgeworth asked gently, a note of genuine concern seeping into his tone. It caught Phoenix off-guard.

"She's… having some trouble getting a job," Ema admitted with reluctance. "Background checks. And she's barred from public service, so…" Her head shot up. "But we'll figure it out. You don't need to worry."

Phoenix tilted his head, considering. "She has experience in the courtroom. Would she consider giving the defense's side a try? There's precedence for attorneys becoming prosecutors, so it can probably work the other way as well." An image flashed through his mind: white hair, a glowing red visor, a coffee mug.

Ema's shoulders sank. "The firms she's tried won't give her a chance. No one trusts her anymore."

That cynical part of Phoenix reared its head. Of course no one trusted a convicted felon, especially in the legal field. He was all-too familiar with how difficult it was to make a living carrying a tainted reputation. An even more sour taste filled his mouth.

"Then allow me." Edgeworth returned to his desk and rifled through a drawer, leaving Phoenix and Ema to exchange bewildered looks. In moments he withdrew a business card from his organizer and pressed it into her palm.

"What's this?" She squinted at the fine print. "Edgeworth Law Offices?"

Edgeworth gave her a firm nod. "She may not be allowed to practice in court anymore, but she can certainly serve as a legal consultant. She has a wealth of experience that should be of use to any attorney. I will send them a message to expect a call from her. If she has any interest, that is."

"I'm not even going to ask why there's a law office with your name. I know better than to look a gift-horse in the mouth." Though Phoenix could sense she was brimming with questions, Ema nonetheless kept them contained, unasked. That was another hard lesson they had both learned; sometimes it was better to simply accept aid, rather than ruin it with unnecessary doubt.

"Thank you, Mister Edgeworth." She sounded so much younger, using his more informal title.

Ema ran her finger along the edge of the card, like it was a precious lifeline, and with care she tucked it into her phone case. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, mentally resetting, focusing her thoughts away from her sister and back to the matter at hand. When her eyes opened again, she had a bright smile on her face.

"Okay then! Let me explain what our tests found."

* * *

"That was unexpected," Phoenix said, once they were alone again in the office. He perched on the edge of Edgeworth's desk, staring down at his partner with a quizzical expression.

"Kindly get off my desk, Wright."

"I will if you explain your sudden generosity."

Phoenix nudged him with his leg, encouraging him to open up. It wasn't every day the prosecutor put his own reputation on the line for someone else, not without a good reason. Curiosity burned inside him.

Edgeworth closed his laptop lid and sighed, and then removed his glasses and tucked them into his jacket pocket. "Ms. Skye – Chief Prosecutor Skye, that is – I owe her a few favors."

"What kind of favors?" Did Edgeworth keep a tally of _everyone_ he felt even remotely indebted to?

"She is… not the only prosecutor I know who sacrificed everything for a loved one and was scapegoated by a monster," Edgeworth said, glancing aside as he avoided Phoenix's question. "I wish to help her, the same way we cleared Prosecutor Blackquill's name."

Phoenix waited, allowing his partner time to work around what was apparently a more emotional issue than he anticipated.

After a moment, Edgeworth relented. "Ms. Skye offered me her encouragement when I first started my career." In a softer voice, he added. "She was one of the few sources of support I had in those days."

Sometimes he forgot that even Edgeworth couldn't always face the world alone.

He hummed in thought, ideas tumbling over in his head. "She could have a place at the Agency, you know."

Edgeworth's eyes remained fixed on his legal files. "You already do too much," he said a twinge of sharpness in that deep baritone.

"But it would –"

" _Phoenix_."

Edgeworth finally met his gaze, and he was startled to see a flash of – not anger, not the spark of an argument, but more like an ember stoked into a brief glow. Phoenix glanced aside, unsure of what to make of that look or that tone of voice or the way something uncertain was uncoiling now in his stomach.

At once Edgeworth's hand reached over and clasped Phoenix's palm, his grip reassuringly tight.

"Understand my position. I requested your help with Prosecutor Blackquill because I could not finish this work without you. And I asked for your aid in Europe for several reasons: to integrate an opposing view to my studies, to solve implausible cases, to… enjoy your personal company," Edgeworth said, a slight pink tinge peaking beneath his glasses. He paused, and swallowed hard before continuing.

"I needed your assistance then. This time, I do not. And neither does Lana Skye."

Phoenix's mouth opened, but no sound escaped. He wasn't sure how to respond to such a statement, though that cold feeling in Phoenix's stomach eased, beginning to melt into something warmer.

Edgeworth squeezed his hand, and to Phoenix's surprise he offered a small smile. "You are the most selfless man I know. Perhaps it is selfish of me, but I also wish to indulge in the satisfaction of helping an old friend."

"You, selfish?" Phoenix finally found his voice, and he returned Edgeworth's handhold. "That's not the man I know."

The smile broadened, just a bit. " _You_ don't have to help _everyone_ ," Edgeworth said, pointedly ignoring the compliment. "Not all of us are foolish enough to run across a burning bridge, but we _can_ be perfectly capable of helping one another on our own."

There was no stopping the shaky breath Phoenix suddenly exhaled. _Oh_. That warmth spread to his chest, to his face; it filled all of Phoenix, filled him with pride for his partner. He dropped a long kiss on Edgeworth's forehead. "All right," he said, conceding. "All right."

Maybe Edgeworth was right; he didn't have to shoulder the burden of saving everyone. At least, not alone.

"If you're going to be affectionate, at least make sure the door is locked."

Ah, there was the grumpy prosecutor he knew. As promised, Phoenix scooted off the desk, chuckling at the indignant squawk about smearing the polish. After securing the deadbolt, he returned and maneuvered one knee to the outside of Edgeworth's hip, then the other. He seated himself across those strong thighs and soundly kissed him, only stopping once Edgeworth relaxed against him.

Sometimes, emotion was so much easier with actions, not words.

Edgeworth cleared his throat, lips still hovering dangerously close. "It's still your turn."

"Hmm?"

"Our chess match."

Phoenix nuzzled at Edgeworth's neck. The chess game was the farthest thing from his mind. He was more interested in showing exactly how he thought of _Miles_ : his hidden kindness. His dedication. That way he quietly took the sting out of a setback.

His infuriating intellect.

"What's the point? You've already got me pinned."

He caught a glimpse of Edgeworth's eyeroll as he pulled back to capture that mouth again. "If you would–" Edgeworth attempted to say around Phoenix's lips, "just consider–" Another kiss. "Your positional play–"

"Oh, is _that_ what you want right now?" Phoenix grinned and shifted his hips.

"–You would not be in such a bind," Edgeworth finished, attempting one of his signature glares. Its effect was lessened by the flush creeping across pale cheeks.

"Binding, yes, we could do that," Phoenix murmured, playfully pressing down on Edgeworth's wrists.

He was pleased to feel a stirring beneath him. But Edgeworth was not ready to give up.

"You could consider the tactic of prophylaxis–"

"Prophylactics? Here in your office? Scandalous." Oh, it was _fun_ to watch him get flustered. Even their legal banter rarely afforded such perfect innuendos.

" _Wright_. If you ever used your head, you wouldn't fall for such obvious traps."

"How could I predict you'd attack my king _and_ queen with one piece?" He moved in earnest now, grinding down into Edgeworth's lap and sliding his hands along his smooth waistcoat. "You have me royally _forked_."

It was impossible to tell if Edgeworth's groan was one of arousal, or merely annoyance at his chess-themed pun.

 _Wait a second._

Phoenix halted his movements and leapt back from the chair, ignoring Edgeworth's dismayed groan and half-serious threats, and raced over to the chess set.

 _Of course_.

He slid his pawn to Edgeworth's side of the board, eyes wide. Little pawns really did have big dreams.

"Your move, Miles." He popped another lemon drop into his mouth and whipped around, triumphant. "But now you'll have to deal with my new queen."


	5. Salty

**Salty**

 _This was the flavor of happiness: the taste of salt, a delicate touch of zest._

"Are you quite certain we're out of view here?"

Edgeworth's breath felt warm, flowing past Phoenix's cheek to tickle at his ear, a pleasant contrast to the icy air circulating through the defense lobby. Today was one of the rare _cold_ Los Angeles winter afternoons: a frigid bite sent the populace in search of warmer clothing. Phoenix's own jacket and short woolen scarf proved just enough to keep out the chill seeping through the courthouse's open entrance and freezing the whole building.

How had Edgeworth ever survived the blizzards of Germany? Maybe it was all the tea, insulating him against the elements. Or perhaps his winter wear did the trick; his partner was certainly bundled up now in carefully oiled leather gloves and a heavy trench.

The lapels of that expensive coat made a convenient place to grab onto. Phoenix pulled at them as he nodded, nerves tingling in anticipation of their lips meeting.

But instead of delivering the kiss he was expecting, Edgeworth ducked down to rest his forehead against Phoenix's shoulder. It wasn't a rejection, exactly – just his partner displaying his frustrating sense of propriety. Eyebrows would be raised if the Chief Prosecutor was so blatantly caught in the defense's arms. Such an overtly romantic display could undermine his authority were it to be witnessed here of all places.

The fingers at his waist squeezed tighter, stubbornly holding them both in place until a firmer answer was received.

Phoenix let out an impatient noise, low in his throat. "Positive. I was hit over the head with a fire extinguisher here once, but security didn't capture it." He inched nearer to Edgeworth, closing the slight gap between them to press flush against his chest. "They never added another camera like I requested. But at least I'm guaranteed some privacy in this lobby."

"Mm." Edgeworth's shoulders fell slack, tension releasing. He shifted his head slightly, eyes scanning the ceiling in confirmation, and then he nosed against the rough fabric around Phoenix's neck. "As Chief Prosecutor I am dismayed to hear about the poor state of courthouse safety, and I will order this fixed immediately."

One of his hands slid up between Phoenix's shoulder blades, tugging the scarf back away from his skin.

The movement, and that teasing tone, kept Phoenix rooted in place. The end of the scarf slipped loose over his shoulder, exposing his neck to the air. They both drew in a sharp breath, and Phoenix could _feel_ Edgeworth smirking against him.

"But for the moment I find the lapse in surveillance rather convenient."

All at once a pool of warmth bloomed on his neck, the heat of Edgeworth's lips and mouth leaving a sweltering impression on his skin.

"M-Miles!" he started, voice cutting off as Edgeworth left a sudden, hard bite at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

Phoenix gasped, his fingers clutching at and wrinkling Edgeworth's coat. Oh, this wasn't _fair_ ; _Miles_ was the one with the sensitive neck, who hid that stretch of skin behind a convenient cravat, who delighted in chastising him for his recklessness even as he pulled Phoenix in closer. Miles wouldn't dare do this, it would be – well, it truly _was_ a cold day in the hellish Los Angeles climate that his partner deigned to do something so brash as to leave his own mark on Phoenix in a potentially visible spot.

His hips bucked against Edgeworth, responding to the soothing tongue now lapping against what must surely be a small purpling bruise. The cold raised goosebumps on his skin – but the contrasting heat from Edgeworth's mouth left him reeling.

"Y-You're going to…" Phoenix trailed off, lost in the sharp-tinged pleasure at his neck. His blood was running hot, so hot, coaxed by the light, still-soothing motions of Edgeworth's lips. His hand rose and clasped the back of Edgeworth's head, fingers burying into silky locks. Any minute now they would be interrupted; already he could hear the footsteps of the gallery emptying into the hallway. Apollo and Athena would be here soon.

It was hard to breathe, caught between two different desires: to push his partner away and put this encounter on hold until the evening, or to spin Edgeworth against the wall and pay him back in kind.

Before he could make up his mind, the motions at his neck ceased.

"Going to what?" Edgeworth's tone had a coy note in it, the way it did when Phoenix fell for one of his logical traps in the courtroom. "Leave a mark?"

A gloved hand curled under his chin, lifting his gaze. Grey eyes met him, shining with an almost mischievous gleam.

This time, he could see those thin lips twitch up.

"How fortunate you can cover it up with this," Edgeworth stated, re-wrapping the scarf around Phoenix. Ah. Perhaps Miles had just been waiting for a perfect opportunity. With the fabric settled back into place, he cupped his hand against Phoenix's cheek.

The leather felt warm and supple, and Phoenix leaned into the touch, eyes closing. He imagined Miles caressing him elsewhere with those gloves, running his hand across his chest in their bed, teasing his bare skin, tracing covered fingers against the most intimate parts of him…

With a heady groan, Phoenix suddenly pushed forward. Edgeworth let out a satisfying "Ooph!" as his back hit the wall, and that startled sound morphed into a low-pitched, quiet moan as Phoenix claimed his mouth in an aggressive kiss. A thrill shot through his spine as Miles yielded to him, letting Phoenix sweep his tongue inside. He brought his teeth down on Edgeworth's bottom lip with nearly enough force to leave a bruise of his own. By the time he pulled away Edgeworth was left thoroughly breathless, with his glasses knocked askew and his bangs mussed; his chest moved visibly with each panting breath, and a flush had bloomed across his cheeks.

God, Miles looked good like that.

It was with only a little reluctance that he smoothed Edgeworth's hair back into place and settled his lenses back on his nose. He regarded his once-again prim and proper partner with a lopsided grin, stepping back just in time as the lobby doors slammed open.

An elderly woman flounced over to Phoenix, over-sized bracelets jangling on her wrists and gaudy necklaces bouncing against her front, and threw her arms around his shoulders. Tears streamed down her face, though she was grinning. Before Phoenix could stop her, she reached up on her toes to plant her lips against his cheek.

"Thank you, thank you!" she sobbed, raining furious kisses across his face. "He won't die now!"

"That's gre- It's go- Can yo-" His attempts to get a word in edgewise were lost to her insistent display. Gently trying to disengage from her only netted more tear streaks across his mouth.

Well. There were worse things in life than the salty tears of a grateful client – or rather, their client's mother.

At last she relented. Out of the corner of his eye he spied Edgeworth remaining flat against the wall, motionless and eyes wide, as though he were terrified she would lock onto him next. Phoenix couldn't suppress a snicker; the scars of Wendy Oldbag lingered still.

Beyond the lobby entrance, he caught a glimpse of their client being led down the hall by the bailiffs, handcuffs firmly locked in place. That was… odd.

His junior associates followed behind their client, and they veered inside to meet him.

"We won," Athena informed him, though her tone sounded anything but pleased. A strained smile stretched across her face, and around her neck Widget glowed a searing yellow.

" _It was a technicality!"_ it stated, overly loud in the small room.

Apollo shifted beside her, looking considerably more glum.

The woman turned her attention to the pair, smothering them with her jewelry and more grateful affection. Phoenix threw Edgeworth a puzzled glance, and the prosecutor tilted his head, eyes questioning.

Time for them to figure out what happened.

"If you'll excuse me, I must speak with the prosecutor on this case," Edgeworth stated, offering a graceful bow. Their client's mother followed after him, chittering about how she'd been certain her son was not a murderer.

The silence in the lobby was deafening.

"Okay you two, let's get some lunch," Phoenix said, breaking the ice. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and headed for the door. "And we can go over why you're both acting like we still lost."

* * *

Perhaps noodles had been a poor choice.

The trio huddled close outside at Eldoon's cart, breaths fogging in front of them. Phoenix had to break out his own pair of gloves just to hold the chopsticks in the freezing air – and he would decidedly _not_ think about Edgeworth's gloves right now.

Beside him, Apollo and Athena poked at their bowls with disinterest.

With an undignified slurp, Phoenix finished off his set of noodles and signaled for another. "Okay, fill me in. What's going on?"

Athena shifted her gaze, eyeing an uninteresting spot on the ground. Apollo, though, pounded his fist next to his bowl, causing some of the broth to slosh out.

"He lied to us, Mr. Wright!"

Phoenix lifted an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Athena drew in a sharp breath – which had to sting, considering the cold. "He didn't _lie_ , Apollo. We proved he didn't murder Poppy Cox."

Apollo's eyes flashed. "But he stole from her family! He practically blackmailed her!"

Well, that would certainly explain why their client was currently enjoying another stay in the holding cell, awaiting trial once more. Judging by how his protégés were reacting, though, he doubted they'd be representing him again, even on lesser charges.

He could sympathize with Apollo's outrage. Sure, their client might not have been a murderer – but he apparently was not a paragon of virtue, either. Moreover, the man had managed to obtain their representation while concealing his true crimes. That revelation had to have stung in court, and filled his subordinates with doubt.

He remembered the times clients had let him down in the past, and how his own mentor had assuaged the blow.

They needed conviction now, not uncertainty. Athena could not suffer a crisis of confidence; she had to grow to stand on her own. And Apollo's stay in the city was only temporary; he had an entire country to defend on his own. Mistrust could not enter Apollo's heart again.

Phoenix turned, facing his subordinates with a stern expression. "We can never be completely sure if the people we defend are innocent," he started. As Apollo's scowl deepened, he held up a placating palm. "It's impossible to know before a trial is finished. But listen to me, Apollo. You too, Athena."

They both angled toward him, barely suppressing their protests. He unpinned his attorney's badge from his lapel and laid it on the table in front of them. Both of their gazes followed its descent.

"As defense attorneys, we have a choice. We _choose_ to trust in our clients. We believe, until the bitter end. And it's that belief that allows the truth to unfold."

He turned the badge, catching the wan sunlight.

"Even if they conceal things from us, even if they deceive us – even if they themselves believe they are guilty, we have a duty to _believe_. Because justice cannot be done if our clients have no one on their side."

A frustrated groan wracked Apollo, his arms flying across his chest in a huff. His hand fiddled with the bracelet at his wrist. "But what are we supposed to do when they _are_ guilty? What then? Just store up the anger and- and just punch them afterwards?"

Ah. Apollo was still a little salty about his first trial, it seemed. Not that he could blame him, really.

Phoenix raised his eyes, staring into the two sets boring back at him.

"Did our client murder anyone?"

Athena mumbled out a weary "No…"

"Did you both defend him to the best of your ability?"

This time her voice was stronger. "Yes!" She sounded shocked he'd even asked.

Phoenix stood, reclaiming his badge and maneuvering between the two of them to grasp both their shoulders in his hands. "Then you should be proud. You brought out the truth. The only time a lawyer can cry is when it's all over, and it's over now." He squeezed, and the tension in both of them fell away, just a bit. "You let out your joy, or your disappointment. Doesn't matter. You let it out, and you move on. You help someone else. Because not everyone is going to be innocent, but everyone deserves a fair chance."

He gently pulled Apollo around to look him in the eye again. "People are going to need you again. And you've got to be ready to believe in them. Otherwise the Dark Age of the Law will never end, here or anywhere else, and more people will suffer."

Apollo let out a long sigh. "It's hard to believe when people let you down." There was still a sharp edge in his words.

"I know. But that's what we have to do, again and again. That's our path. But here's the thing to remember: we don't have to walk this path alone."

Athena and Apollo exchanged a pensive glance.

Phoenix pulled out his wallet as another noodle bowl was placed at his empty seat. He fished out a wad of bills and handed them over. "Actually, grab another round for them, too." He gave Apollo a confident grin.

"Lunch is on me."


	6. Bitter

**Bitter**

 _This was the flavor of happiness: the taste of bitterness, a lasting sharpness._

"Mr. Wright did _what?!_ "

Phoenix paused outside his Agency, keys halfway turned through the lock. That was Athena's voice, drifting past the threshold with a hysterical edge – though at least she sounded more incredulous than distressed.

Beside him, Trucy gave him a worried look. "Daddy?"

He put on his bravest face, and swung the door open.

Inside, he found Athena and Apollo on the visitor's sofa instead of at their desks. Apollo was nearly doubled over, struggling to catch his breath from laughing so much. Athena was nearly on the verge of tears, wiping at the corners of her eyes with a jubilant grin.

And sitting across from them on the second sofa…

"Aunt Mia!"

Trucy flew past him as Mia rose from her seat, and latched her arms around his departed mentor's waist.

Mia returned his daughter's hug, her fingers stroking through Trucy's hair with a graceful tenderness. Her expression softened, eyes closed. But when Trucy pulled back, Mia gave her a bright smile. "Hello, Trucy," she said, readjusting her robes – Pearl's robes. "I hope it's all right if I dropped by?"

"It's always okay!" Trucy's eyes were wide and adoring.

Mia glanced at Phoenix. Though she was still smiling, he could see the question lingering in her expression, her delicate eyebrows raising slightly.

He wondered how one's spirit could simply 'drop by.' For all the experience he'd had with spirit channeling, the finer aspects of it still escaped him. Nonetheless, his face split into an open grin. "You know you're always welcome, Chief."

It was subtle, that appreciative look on Mia's face, but it warmed his heart. She settled back onto the couch, with Trucy nestling beside her, and she crossed her arms loosely across her chest. "Pearl was waiting for you here, and – I was feeling a bit nostalgic." She gestured toward his subordinates, who were still composing themselves on the sofa. Her voice took on a coy lilt. "And I wanted to meet your protégés."

Dueling emotions pierced Phoenix's heart as he, too, took a seat next to Trucy. On one hand, he was deeply touched that Mia wished to see how things were going with the Agency. But on the other, there was a part of him that was terrified at what kinds of _stories_ she had evidently been telling about him.

There was only so much dignity he had left.

"I wish I'd known you back then, Boss!" Athena grinned up at him. "You ate a _glass bottle?!_ That could have still have had _poison_ in it?"

Ah. So Mia had regaled them with _that_ tale.

"Love makes you do stupid things…" he muttered, rubbing his palm at the back of his neck. He threw a pointed glare at Trucy, attempting to save face. "Don't repeat your father's mistakes."

"Daddy, did you really – wait, eating glass? And poison?" Trucy teased, an impish gleam in her eyes. "This could be a fun magic trick!"

"Trucy, I just said–"

"I'm kidding, Daddy!"

Trucy beamed at him, tongue peeking out; any irritation he felt melted at her joyous face.

"It's hard to picture you being that dopey, Mr. Wright." Apollo smirked, evidently enjoying having his former boss taken down a peg. "I mean, even _I_ knew women poop."

Phoenix could practically feel his own hair drooping in resignation. "At the time I – I mean, I–"

Wait, wasn't he the supposed to be the one in charge around here? He caught Mia's eye, and to his astonishment she snickered quietly. Yet it was an indulgent sound, affectionate; the kind of laugh born of mutual struggle and triumph, that spoke of old times and old glories.

He missed that. With a pang in his heart, he realized he missed more than her advice or her steadying presence – he missed _her_.

Drawing himself up straight, he braced his hands on his hips and channeled his best Edgeworth glower. "All right, it's after hours now. Don't you all have someplace to go?"

He knew exactly where they needed to be – People Park, for Klavier Gavin's fundraiser show. Trucy had chattered non-stop about it all week.

"But what about Pearl? She's supposed to come with us." Trucy's mouth turned down in a slight pout; it tugged at Phoenix's heart, reminding him of when they first met. But he knew there was more to it than a simple, childish whine – she both wanted to enjoy the concert with her best friend, and felt guilty for forcing her aunt to leave.

He turned and placed his hands on Trucy's shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "It starts in half an hour, right?" He gave her a smile, soft and fond, and caught Mia's eye once more over her shoulder. "Give your aunt and I a little time to catch up, and I'll send Pearl after you before the music starts."

"Okay." Mollified, she gave Mia one more hug and pulled his subordinates to their feet.

In moments they gathered their gear and said their farewells at the door.

"Goodbye, Ms. Fey!" Athena tossed back with a wave. "I hope we can talk again!"

"Yeah. It was nice meeting you," Apollo said, smiling and nodding respectfully.

Trucy dragged them both into the hallway. "Bye Daddy! Bye Aunt Mia! Don't drink too much grape juice!" She slammed the door behind her, excited to get to the park.

In the silence that followed, he and Mia exchanged a glance, and he let out an awkward chuckle.

"Kids, huh?" He headed to the Agency's kitchenette area, digging through the cupboards for something to offer to drink.

"They can be a handful," he heard behind him, though there was something curiously wistful in Mia's voice.

The realization hit him with a force that stole his breath. He immediately regretted his off-hand comment.

Mia never had the chance to be a parent.

He peered back at her, straightening with a somber expression. "Sorry, I didn't mean–"

"It's all right," she cut in, waving her hand dismissively. She faced him head-on, standing right in front of him. "I had my time, and left my mark." She reached up and flicked the lock of hair on his forehead, lips curling up in amusement as it bounced back into place. "You're older than me now. You have been for a while."

He remained frozen in place, stunned again at the idea that he had surpassed Mia in age. _Maya_ was nearly her age now. That is, the age Mia _used_ to be.

A bitter coil settled in his stomach. Mia… should have had more years.

"Stop thinking about that, Phoenix."

She had dipped down into the cupboard herself, searching, and pulled out the old coffeemaker. A moment later, she dug out some abandoned coffee grounds in the back. She opened the container, inhaled, and her lips quirked up.

"Well, it's no blend 107, but it'll do."

She plugged in the machine and filled it with water, and then pulled down a mug – _two_ mugs, he noted.

"Pearl's feeling a bit tired. I figured she could use a little pick-me-up for this concert," she explained as the water heated up. "Keep an eye on her afterwards."

"Will do," he agreed, leaning against the counter. Funny, how being in his mentor's presence made him feel like the past decade had been a weird kind of dream. Like nothing had really changed.

Even though everything had.

"Things can't help changing," she stated, interrupting his thoughts as she joined him at his side. "Growth and experience are inevitable."

"I know," he sighed, "But sometimes I wish we could just focus on the happier times."

"That's what memories are for, Phoenix." That knowing look still managed to make him feel foolish, all these years later.

"You were sharing some _choice_ memories with Apollo and Athena," he chided, feeling blood rise to his cheeks. "How much did you embarrass me, Chief?"

"Not nearly as much as I could have." She nudged his shoulder with her own. "I didn't tell them about that sweater."

He groaned, his flush deepening.

"But I don't think anything I said would have shaken their faith in you," she added. She gave him a warm smile. "They look up to you quite a bit."

"Ah, that's…" He trailed off, a flustered smile flitting across his face.

She placed her hand on his forearm; she felt warm.

Completely unlike the time he held onto her as her life departed, so long ago.

"I'm glad I got to meet them. They remind me a lot of you." The last trickle of water emptied into the coffee pot, and Mia began filling their cups. "We pass on the lessons we learn as attorneys. In that way, we always linger. Diego, me, even you."

She handed him a mug, filled to the brim. "I'm proud of you, Phoenix."

Steam rose into his face, and Phoenix buried his head down into it, his face heating up for an entirely different reason.

Mia did not ask for sugar or cream; just the coffee, pure and strong. They sipped slowly, cautiously, careful not to burn their tongues, letting the drink ease down their throats.

Hot and dark, earthy. Bitter.

"I didn't tell them about that scrapbook you kept in your desk drawer, either," she said, utterly nonchalant.

It took a surprising amount of restraint to keep from spraying the coffee across the wall in front of him.

"W-What?!"

He'd had no idea she knew about his… well, yes, he supposed it could be called a scrapbook. It hadn't started that way; he just needed a way to keep all the information he'd collected about Edgeworth in one place while he juggled both school and his internship. So that he could pore over it whenever he wanted. As many times as he wanted. That was perfectly normal, right?

…How long had she been keeping this secret?

"You really weren't that discreet. Half the time I caught you goofing off you were clipping photos out of the newspaper with hearts in your eyes."

He supposed there was no pretending he did not, in fact, spend a significant amount of time in this office staring at pictures of Miles – then, or now.

"W-Well. It motivated me. How many people ever switched from Art to Law and stuck with it?"

Her smile was fond. "I could tell how determined you were. Though I questioned your taste at the time, I'm glad it worked out between you two."

He couldn't keep the goofy grin off his face. "I suppose it did, huh?"

"Phoenix Wright."

His eyebrows rose at the use of his full name. She gave him a tender smile. "Yeah, Chief?"

"Keep living a good life."

It had been a long time since he'd had a cup of coffee that tasted so delicious.

* * *

"Your flight's still scheduled to come in next Sunday, right?"

"For the last time, yes. What has gotten into you?"

Phoenix cradled his phone at his shoulder, turned off the lamp, and sank down further into his bed. _Their_ bed. The blankets crept up close to his ears, almost smothering him; yet he found little comfort in them. They felt cloying, sticking to him like the pages of his scrapbook clinging together with age – the scrapbook that was currently stashed at the bottom of his nightstand drawer.

More than one kind of inspiration could be wrought from its contents.

"It's been five days, Miles. That's almost a week."

"Need I remind you we have spent much longer periods of time apart?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

He knew he was being irrationally needy. Edgeworth had been invited as a guest speaker at some prosecutors-only national retreat. He didn't understand all the details, but he knew it was prestigious. Just a short trip out of the city. An opportunity to influence the next generation of state attorneys, as Edgeworth put it.

It didn't ease the ache he felt for his partner.

"I'm feeling a little pent up. Completely your fault."

"Pent up? In what way?"

He could swear there was a devious note in Edgeworth's voice, a flirtatious drawl, one that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Perhaps Edgeworth was feeling a little pent up himself, and would be willing to _indulge_ him over the phone – something they had not shared together since the prosecutor's last solo trip to Europe. His voice alone could make Phoenix feel weak in the knees, as they'd had ample opportunity to discover, and Phoenix's words seemed to have just as strong an effect. It would be easy for them to fall back into old habits until his partner returned.

Then again, maybe Edgeworth just enjoyed teasing him right now. Both seemed equally plausible.

"Why don't you come home early and find out?"

That elicited a low chuckle, rough and deep and so, so tempting. "Would it help if I told you I purchased a souvenir?"

That set Phoenix's pulse pounding. Judging from that tone, he could expect something a little more interesting than a new refrigerator magnet. Still, could Edgeworth really be suggesting…?

"Oh? What kind of souvenir?"

"One that I am most _eager_ to put to use."

Possibilities unfolded in Phoenix's mind, one enticing picture melting into another.

"You know that really didn't answer the question, right?"

"Indeed. But I do enjoy hearing the catch in your voice when you give free rein to your imagination."

He couldn't suppress the groan that erupted from his throat. "If you were here I wouldn't have to rely on my imagination so much."

Again, that low laughter sounded, soft and intimate against his ear. "That would be a shame. You can be quite creative when pressed, in court or elsewhere."

Desperation welled up in Phoenix. The blankets were sticking, his body was aching, and the one thing – the one _person_ – he wanted most remained hundreds of miles away. He let out a frustrated noise. "Dammit, Miles. Are we going to do this, or are you just leading me on?"

He could _hear_ the smug grin.

"Why Phoenix, I have no idea what you mean."

Only the thought of waking up Trucy and Pearl kept him from hurling the phone against the wall.

"You are an evil bastard, Miles Edgeworth."

"And yet, you're unreasonably fond of me."

"The only unreasonable thing is you keeping me _up_ like this," Phoenix shot back.

"I can tell you need a moment to yourself," Edgeworth said, still damnably cocky. "Though it pains me to leave you in this state, I have an early meeting tomorrow, so perhaps we should both get some rest."

Phoenix forced himself to draw in a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly. Calming thoughts, calming pictures. Miles would return. Soon.

"Yeah, yeah," he groused, proud that he managed to push down the sharp edge of need in his voice. "Good luck tomorrow, and don't frighten too many rookies."

"I…"

His ears perked up at the change in Edgeworth's tone.

"I miss you, Phoenix."

And his heart melted, hearing that sincerity.

"I miss you too."

At least in his dreams, Miles would be with him that night.


	7. Miles

**Miles**

It was a quiet evening.

Phoenix lay sprawled across the sofa, a pillow tucked beneath his lower back, with Edgeworth nestled between his legs. Two wine glasses sat half-filled on the coffee table along with a bowl of not-so-intoxicating milk chocolates. On the television screen, a cadre of samurai were frozen in place, swords suspended in the air.

"Okay, Truce. Try not to stay up all night, working or otherwise. We'll pick you up on Sunday." Phoenix leaned his head back against the arm of the couch and tilted his phone down, allowing Edgeworth the chance to say a few words into it.

"Please give Mister Tenma our gratitude for allowing you to stay the weekend," Edgeworth said, the deep rumble of his voice reverberating through them both and sending a pleasant shiver along Phoenix's spine. "I trust you and Jinxie will perform admirably on your physics project."

Trucy's voice, rendered tinny over the cheap plastic speaker, sounded ready to burst with excitement. "I will! And don't worry, it'll be fantastic!"

Some pleasant feeling settled over Phoenix like a fuzzy blanket, hearing such confidence from his daughter. His lips turned up in a fond smile. Perhaps it was due to the wine, but he could not find it in himself to be angry with her for waiting until the last minute to complete a school assignment. His little magician could work her magic on any take-home project. They both performed best under pressure, especially when a someone else's life, or grade, was in their hands.

The sound of something crashing, startlingly loud over the phone, jerked him out of his reverie. Jinxie cut in, words tinged with panic. "Trucy wait, don't launch the–"

"Gotta go! Bye Daddy, bye Papa!"

The line went silent.

Edgeworth twisted around; his expression was carefully blank. "Should we be concerned?"

A pause.

"...Nah, she knows not to break anything too expensive."

Well. Time to get comfy and settle in for the night.

Phoenix drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and shifted, pushing his arms above his head and feeling his black tee-shirt drift up his stomach. His hips rose as he inched his socked feet toward the far arm of the couch. He reveled in the movement, feeling his muscles burn and the tingling sensation of blood returning to his limbs as he leisurely stretched across the plush cushions. Even better, his body slowly slid against Edgeworth's. The counterweight felt nice, a pleasant warmth to push against as he stretched. It did wonders for the kink in his lower back.

"Are you quite finished?"

Beneath the irritation, Edgeworth sounded the tiniest bit… breathless.

"Yeah."

Invigorated, he sank back in contentment. Edgeworth relaxed against him again, and Phoenix parted his legs wider to allow those broad shoulders to press back fully to his chest. He let one arm fall lazily along Edgeworth's torso, idly brushing his pastel polo. Even Edgeworth's lounge-wear was somewhat professional; if Phoenix ever caught _him_ wearing a tee-shirt in public he would look to the sky, certain to see pigs soaring through the air.

Though sometimes, if he put on his best puppy eyes and it was a special occasion, Edgeworth might indulge him. In private.

He dropped his ancient flip-phone onto the coffee table, letting it clink against the wine bottle, and traded it for the television remote. Edgeworth reached for his glass and took a long sip of the pinot noir, nearly burying his nose in the glass.

If he tilted his head just right, Phoenix could catch a glimpse of bare chest beneath the collar of the polo. His thumb idly traced over the well-worn buttons on the remote. "I guess movie night is just us now, huh?"

Edgeworth made an impatient noise as he carefully replaced his glass on its coaster. "Your deductive skills are astounding. You can resume the show now, assuming you're quite done fondling the electronics."

Another pause. A faint, tell-tale blush spread beneath Edgeworth's spectacles.

"Hey Miles, do you want to–"

"Not during the episode."

The tightness in Edgeworth's voice did not match his words.

The barest hint of a smirk twitched the corners of Phoenix's lips. He shifted again, bowing his spine and pushing his chest more firmly against Edgeworth, and squeezed his knees together against strong thighs. Slow, intentional movements.

"Stop squirming!"

 _Ah_. There was that note of urgency Phoenix sought. Perhaps Edgeworth truly wished to concentrate on this episode, though by now he had the whole show memorized. No, what was more likely – what sent Phoenix's blood _thrumming_ through his body – was the realization that Edgeworth was trying to maintain his dignity in the face of unexpected arousal. The great Chief Prosecutor would not be so _easily_ seduced.

Phoenix grinned.

With a put-upon huff, he hit the play button and tossed the remote back, and the ridiculously choreographed battle scene continued on the screen. He watched in silence and near-stillness for a few minutes, allowing Edgeworth's hackles to lower. Phoenix only moved his fingers. One of the greatest gifts of all their hard years was this tacit, tactile permission, these casual touches. His hand rubbed back and forth against Edgeworth's lower stomach.

A nonchalant stroke, a gentle rhythm.

A starting point.

He waited until the battle ended and the episode reached a lull. His lips rested above Edgeworth's ear, tickled by fine grey hair. The vague, citrus-like scent of pricey shampoo nearly distracted him from his plan. "Can you grab the chocolates? Since Trucy won't be needing them tonight," he said with deliberate innocence.

Absently, Edgeworth pulled a candy out of the bowl, attention still fixed on the screen.

"Pass me one?"

A crinkle as the wrapper came off. Edgeworth raised his left hand, the soft candy perched between his fingers. Instead of grabbing it with his own hand Phoenix lowered his head to take the chocolate directly into his mouth. His lips brushed against Miles's fingertips, feather-light.

Edgeworth stiffened, his back going a degree more rigid.

"Thanks." Phoenix immediately swallowed, hardly tasting anything. "Another one?"

"I don't intend to keep feeding you all night, you know." But a moment later Edgeworth opened another of the candies and held it up.

This time Phoenix moved leisurely, his lips lingering on Edgeworth. He grabbed the treat with the tip of his tongue, deftly swiping between the proffered digits. In response, he heard a sharp intake of breath.

He chewed slowly, thoroughly, taking his time. Dragged his hand along Edgeworth's abdomen deliberately, skirting the edges of the polo and his slacks. Let the tension build.

"One more?" His lips caressed the shell of Edgeworth's ear.

Edgeworth plucked at the wrapper with uncertainty. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in deep breaths, caught between decorum and desire. The colorful images from the screen reflected off of his glasses, the episode continuing on while he hesitated.

Phoenix held his breath. He lived for these little moments of possibility, when he could just _look_ at Edgeworth as much as he pleased without interruption, when he could let his heart race, filled with a familiar yearning that ached in his chest, and all he could think about was everything he would do for this man and how much he _wanted_ …

God, he hoped Miles felt the same way right now.

The chocolate smudged against Edgeworth's fingers. At last he offered it up, like a flag of surrender.

Phoenix gently held that wrist in place, and his mouth descended.

 _This was the flavor of happiness: the taste of sweetness, melting against Miles's skin._

Phoenix drew in two long, elegant fingers with the chocolate. He shoved the confection away to the back of his mouth to melt, unheeded, and instead brushed the flat of his tongue along the undersides of Edgeworth's fingers, against the infinitely more appealing taste and texture of Miles.

"Ph-Phoenix!"

His tongue moved with intention: sweeping, swirling, seeking every hint of chocolate remaining on Edgeworth's skin. How much better this sweetness tasted, on Miles.

At the same time Phoenix crept his right hand beneath the polo's hem to slide along Edgeworth's waist. Finally: warm skin, growing even warmer with his touch. Edgeworth's shudder against his chest galvanized Phoenix and he pulled the shirt farther up, revealing tantalizing bits of stomach and naval.

Edgeworth's free hand gripped Phoenix's, pressing it harder to his skin – pushing it downward.

 _Oh_. To know Miles _wanted_ was always such a potent thought.

Bolder, he widened his mouth to pull those fingers further in and slipped his tongue against each ridge, absolutely indecent, laving in long, wet trails. As Edgeworth let out a low gasp he redoubled his efforts, hoping every agile stroke reminded his partner of where _else_ his mouth could be. Phoenix pressed his tongue hard onto the lightly calloused fingerpads and hollowed his cheeks, adding suction as he traced wet lines against those sweetened fingers still held captive in the cavern of his mouth.

"Mmph!"

Nothing ever affected him as much as wringing those quiet noises of pleasure from his partner. Each one was treasured, a testament to the willpower of the man before him and to his own dedication: that _he_ was allowed past Edgeworth's careful barriers, that _he_ was permitted to tease and tempt and remind Miles that he was human. Because Edgeworth trusted him. Miles _loved_ him.

His hips moved of their own accord, rubbing against Edgeworth's lower back, drawing moans from them both – Edgeworth's voiced, his own vibrating around the fingers still trapped on his tongue.

He withdrew his lips just enough for his teeth to delicately hold those fingers in place at the first knuckle, right behind short nails; and he teased the very edges of the fingertips, delicately flicking his tongue across the tops, just the way that drove Miles crazy when–

Edgeworth's legs trembled and his other hand flailed back, abandoning the palm on his torso to reach blindly for Phoenix's face.

"You– this is entirely–"

Edgeworth's words finished in a strangled groan as Phoenix engulfed his fingers once more, pulling them in as deeply as he could.

"Ahh!"

There was no question about what they _both_ wanted now. Phoenix ground against Edgeworth's lower back while Edgeworth responded in kind, anchoring his arm on the sofa back to shift back against Phoenix. His eyes drifted shut, lost in the sensation of Edgeworth moving so intimately against his burgeoning cock, in the feeling of hard abdominal muscles beneath his palm, in the texture of Edgeworth's fingers in his mouth. With every movement of his tongue both his and Edgeworth's restraint slipped away, voices loosing and hips canting.

However, as much as he adored filling Edgeworth's head with suggestive thoughts, he wanted _more_. With one final caress of his tongue he released the captive fingers.

Immediately Edgeworth scrabbled at the back of Phoenix's neck, his hands lacing together. Wet digits left a slick streak across his nape, causing gooseflesh to rise in their wake in the air. Phoenix was pulled down swiftly while Edgeworth craned his head back; despite the awkward angle, their lips met with desperation.

 _This was the flavor of happiness: a sour taste, chased along Miles's tongue._

Phoenix yielded at once, already primed to accept Edgeworth's heated kiss. The taste of wine clung to Edgeworth's lips, tart bursts of the pinot noir that lingered along his tongue, lurked at the back of his mouth, hid inside his cheek. Phoenix sought out each note, drinking greedily; two of his favorite flavors, complementing each other like they were made to entice him.

He yanked on the polo, impatient to run his hands over all of his partner. Edgeworth broke their kiss with a gasp as Phoenix pulled the shirt up as much as he could, bunching it beneath Edgeworth's arms. Edgeworth's pale chest practically glowed in the forgotten television screen's light. Broad. Strong.

Mouthwatering.

Phoenix could not help the deep rumble that emerged from his throat as he bent down, peppering Edgeworth's clothed shoulders with his lips as he roamed his hands across all that expanse of skin.

"We should – take this elsewhere," Edgeworth said, low and urgent. But he made no move to lift himself from the sofa, nor did he stop Phoenix's hands as they slid down to his slacks and opened them.

But there was only so far Phoenix could lean over Edgeworth, and it proved difficult to reach inside the trousers, much less push them down. He shifted against Edgeworth's lower back again, frustrated: what he really wanted was just out of reach.

"Edgeworth," he groaned, dragging his hands back up and pausing at Edgeworth's pectorals. "Please."

"Ple- Please what?"

Edgeworth let out a sharp cry as Phoenix brushed his thumbs across pink nipples. His hips bucked as Phoenix continued touching, teasing.

He could not remember the last time they spent an evening in the living area, whether for the whole night or just for a heated instance. Of all the moments they shared – trysts against apartment walls, long weeks in European hotels, the occasional office debauchery behind locked doors – nothing compared to being together in their home, the sanctuary they carved out so carefully amidst all the obstacles thrown their way. And that usually meant their bed, where every glance and touch and moan could be safely shared in privacy.

To see Miles writhing on the _sofa_ sent a voyeuristic thrill percolating along his spine.

"Touch yourself, Miles."

For a second he was fairly certain they both stopped breathing, just letting the words hang in the air.

"Give me something more _interesting_ to watch," Phoenix murmured. He reached across the table, hit the remote, and turned off the episode. Only the ambiance from the ever-present city lights illuminated them from behind the window blinds, bathing them in intimacy.

The idea was planted, and he couldn't shake the image from his head. He _had_ idly pictured Edgeworth alone during the times when they were apart; had imagined what he might look like lying on an empty bed with Phoenix's name on his lips. But such a thought had not occurred once he could have Edgeworth in his arms again – until this moment.

Phoenix again moved his lips to Edgeworth's ear, brushing against it as he spoke in low tones:

"I want to see you. Show me."

A long, still moment.

Uncertainty seeped into Phoenix. Perhaps he had crossed a line. For all that they had experienced together, all the ways in which they had pleasured and thrilled one another, neither he nor Edgeworth had ever _performed_ in this way for each other. This was something private, and so very personal.

Something _vulnerable_.

He was about to take the words back, red-faced – but Edgeworth abruptly sat up.

In one smooth movement Edgeworth slung the polo from his shoulders onto the table, followed by his glasses, and as he lay back again his hands flew to his slacks. With a little maneuvering he got both them and his briefs peeled to his knees, and then pooled onto the floor.

"Miles…"

"No talking, Wright. Don't- just, don't say anything."

Edgeworth's voice had gained an octave. His eyes were screwed shut, his brows drawn in, his chest rising and falling rapidly in barely controlled breaths. A fierce blush spread from his cheeks down to his chest. His cock was already half-hard, flushed dark with arousal. But still he remained on the sofa, completely nude against Phoenix, unflinching.

He stared, transfixed, down the length of Edgeworth's body.

A wave of tenderness and pride, devastating in its intensity, washed over Phoenix. Edgeworth would do this. _For him_. As desperately as Phoenix wished to let all the half-formed words of trust and encouragement spill out, to verbalize all his surprise and overwhelming excitement, he held his tongue. Instead, he let his movements speak for him. He ran his hands along Edgeworth's biceps and squeezed at his shoulders, barely able to keep himself from trembling; dipped down to kiss Edgeworth's temple and the crown of his head; pressed his knees closer together, cradling Edgeworth. Everything he could do to give Miles all the reassurance he needed.

Waiting. Patient, and with a simmering impatience all at once.

His breath hitched audibly as Edgeworth placed his hand between his thighs.

Phoenix hardly dared breathe out as he watched, devouring every detail: the way Edgeworth wrapped his long fingers around his cock. How his sharp white teeth clenched at his bottom lip. The soft sound of _want_ as he began to stroke, slow and sensuous. All of Miles, bared for him.

 _Oh god_.

In halting movements Edgeworth palmed himself, his scowl deepening in concentration. He traced his fingers along his cock, gentle touches. Taking his time, despite his embarrassment. Maybe he wanted to make the show last for Phoenix; perhaps he wanted to tease; or just maybe, if he was going to do this, he wanted to enjoy it as much as possible.

Phoenix had never really considered the appeal of this kind of situation. If he was given the opportunity to touch Edgeworth, why wouldn't he? But as he felt his own cock swelling against Edgeworth's back, he was beginning to understand. There was something undeniably erotic in simply observing, knowing that he _could_ touch but that he _wouldn't_. Instead of focusing on all he could give, he could let his attention linger on Edgeworth's enjoyment – how Miles _wanted_ to be touched.

What a beautiful sight, watching Miles pleasure himself.

His gaze drifted down, letting his eyes roam where his hands and his lips could not: Edgeworth's throat, bobbing with every other stroke. The hollow of his neck, where his collar bones framed a delightful place to leave a reddened mark. The hard, angular lines and gentler slopes of his torso, so much smooth toned skin, and the sheen of sweat beginning to form. Muscular thighs, clenched tight. Delectable hip bones. Neatly groomed silvery hairs. The curve of his cock; elegant fingers sliding over it, gathering the bead of liquid pooled at the tip and spreading it along his length, and further.

 _Wait , what was he –_

Edgeworth dipped his hands down. One cupped the delicate sac beneath his cock, rubbing gently at each side. His other slipped lower, knees spreading and hips angling enough for him to circle a slickened finger at his entrance. Shockingly lewd, displaying himself with abandon and holding nothing back.

Some coarse, inarticulate noise escaped Phoenix's throat. The sight made his mouth turn dry, made his cock _ache_. He burned with the primal urge to bury himself into Miles, to grind and thrust and _fuck_ until Miles screamed his name. His hips jerked, though the friction brought little relief to the blistering desire roiling through his veins.

The sound spurred Edgeworth on. With a shaky breath he pressed inside himself, groaning as he breached the tight ring of muscle. He brought his other hand back up and curled his fingers around his cock again. Both hands worked in concert, in and out, back and forth, pleasuring himself with dual sensations.

Expectations shattered, Phoenix followed every movement with hunger.

Edgeworth moved faster, pressed deeper, breathed harder. Writhing, panting, bangs mussed and sticking to his forehead; completely lost – until all at once he slowed. His expression wavered, flickering into something more desperate that drew his eyebrows up and dropped his mouth open. He withdrew his finger from inside himself and with deliberateness he massaged his thumb just beneath the head of his cock, letting out a soft, heart-stopping whimper, before plunging down his length more forcefully.

Phoenix gasped, shoulders shaking; that was one of his favorite things to experience, he _melted_ when Miles did that to him – and to see his partner touch himself the same way made his heart stutter in its beats. His length pulsed with the phantom sensation of Miles's hand around him. From this vantage point, he could almost imagine that Edgeworth was stroking _him_.

It was impossible to hold still any longer. Without thinking, Phoenix grasped Edgeworth's arms, fingers leaving impressions against pale skin. Edgeworth jumped, startled, but he did not open his eyes or even rebuke Phoenix. No – what came out was a moan, low and longing, a sound that pierced Phoenix's heart. Beads of perspiration fell in little rivulets down Edgeworth's temple and past his cheek, and Edgeworth shifted slightly to the side and angled his head, giving access to his ever-sensitive neck.

With a heady groan, Phoenix gave in to the temptation.

 _This was the flavor of happiness: the taste of salt , dripped from the sweat of Miles's brow._

Phoenix lowered his head and licked a broad stripe along Edgeworth's neck, following one salt trail up to his jaw. Even Edgeworth's sweat was enticing, clean and masculine; tiny droplets still clung to his temple and Phoenix moved his lips across them, kissing each one furiously. Once more he brushed his thumbs against pert pink nipples, pinching softly, and relished his partner's moan and the way he arched his back at his touch.

Edgeworth's tongue peeked out to re-wet his lips, his hand tunneled in a loose hold, and his movements grew more frenzied.

A question flashed through Phoenix's thoughts as Edgeworth's eyes steadfastly remained closed: What was Edgeworth thinking about as he stroked himself in Phoenix's arms? Was he was remembering their past encounters, or simply focused on sensation? Maybe he was indulging in a fantasy, imagining himself as some risqué version of the Steel Samurai.

Or perhaps he was thinking of something – some _one_ else altogether.

Phoenix rarely let jealousy grab hold of him. Edgeworth had shown time and time again that no one else mattered to him in quite the same way he did. But with Miles in his arms like this, so clearly enjoying himself while Phoenix could not touch him as he wanted: a spike of possessiveness speared through him.

Edgeworth's hitched breath signaled his impending finish.

On impulse Phoenix threw his palm over Edgeworth's eyes, keeping him deprived of sight. He pulled Edgeworth's arms away from his body and quickly pinned them down, one with his remaining hand and the other with his knee. Edgeworth let out an undignified sound, robbed of his release as his hips bucked fruitlessly into the air.

He could not keep the growl out of his voice as he spoke into Edgeworth's ear. "What are you thinking about, Miles?"

For a moment Edgeworth didn't respond. Phoenix knew his partner was in no state to bend his words, to hide his thoughts behind sarcasm or indifference. Caught on the edge of completion, the only thing Miles could speak was the truth.

He lowered his tone. "Who are you–"

"You," Miles answered, voice ragged and barely above a whisper. "It's always you, Phoe–"

The answer seared onto his soul. It was all he needed to hear. The awkward angle be damned: Phoenix twisted to cover Edgeworth's mouth with his own, swallowing his confession in a passionate kiss.

His heart soared as Edgeworth half-moaned, half-wailed into his mouth.

As soon as Phoenix released Edgeworth's hands and dragged his lips away – his back could only withstand so much – Edgeworth rounded on him. He pulled Phoenix down along the sofa with a strength rarely exhibited, and straddled Phoenix's waist.

The look in his eyes was wild, frantic.

Looming above, Edgeworth almost seemed terrifying: a powerful force, ready to incinerate or consume him. But with his face flushed, lips parted, body taut with tension – with his cock still hard and begging for attention – instead he looked the very picture of unbridled lust.

Utterly stunning.

Edgeworth leaned down, and before Phoenix realized what had happened Edgeworth had pinned his wrists to the cushions above his head.

"I want you," Phoenix breathed, nearly quivering with awe. He wet his lips and tilted his chin up, beckoning. "Come here."

In the span of a heartbeat Edgeworth lunged upward, resettling on Phoenix's chest. The tip of his cock brushed against Phoenix's lips, so infuriatingly close, but he did not thrust forward just yet. Even as far gone as he was, Miles Edgeworth dared not cause the man he loved any unwanted pain. He tucked the back pillow beneath Phoenix's neck to prop him up and released his hands.

Phoenix immediately clutched the globes of that perfect ass, parted his lips, and pulled Edgeworth into his mouth.

 _This was the flavor of happiness: the savory musk of Miles on his tongue._

A jolt of arousal surged straight to Phoenix's still-clothed cock, a near-Pavlovian reaction to the rich scent and taste of Miles. Every time he could be with Edgeworth: to taste him, see him, touch him – bring him to the heights of pleasure… every time, the _love_ that welled up in Phoenix's heart nearly staggered him. He would give his all to Miles; and he knew, in the depths of his soul, that Miles would give him everything in return.

He relaxed his jaw, letting it fall slack. Kept his hands molded to those firm buttocks. Flattened his tongue and closed his eyes. Allowed Edgeworth to push in as much as he wanted.

Content to surrender control to Miles.

And after enduring so much, after Phoenix's wicked teasing and his own stimulation, Edgeworth was near his breaking point. He drove into Phoenix's mouth in short, shallow bursts, moving with an alacrity that meant he would not last long at all.

The last time Edgeworth had been this worked up was when Phoenix finally added a waistcoat to his suit.

Phoenix moaned, the sound muffled around that hard length, and Edgeworth took that as permission to go deeper. He leaned over Phoenix, one forearm braced on the arm of the sofa, and thrust into his mouth, not enough to choke or gag, but enough for Phoenix to feel most of his cock on his tongue. Impossibly hard, and undeniably arousing; Phoenix's own length strained at the confines of his pants.

A brush of fingertips on his face caused Phoenix to inhale sharply. Edgeworth's free hand stroked his cheek, his thumb tracing against his cheekbone, fingers at his jaw. A tender gesture, a wonderful contradiction to the frenzied pace of his hips.

In the midst of losing control, Miles still found a way to communicate the depth of his emotion. Even without his compromised position, it would have rendered Phoenix speechless.

Only a handful of thrusts more, and Miles was lost. His hips snapped forward, and he seized the back of Phoenix's head, his entire body tensing. "Phoenix!"

His name, wrung like that from Miles's lips, was the most glorious sound in the world.

Edgeworth remained suspended above, quaking as his climax held him in thrall. Phoenix had a bit of difficulty breathing, as Edgeworth had pushed in nearly to his throat – but it was only a momentary discomfort. It was worth it to experience this more debauched side of his partner. A familiar, warm sensation filled his mouth, coating his tongue.

 _This was the flavor of happiness: the bitter taste of Miles's release._

As soon as Edgeworth managed to draw in a sharp breath, knees shaking, he relaxed his hold on Phoenix and carefully withdrew from his mouth. He shifted back to Phoenix's waist, still trembling through the echoes of pleasure.

Now that Phoenix could move his tongue again, he swallowed the last remnants in his mouth. He looked up and found Miles gazing at him, staring into his eyes and searching – for signs of distress, or perhaps for reassurance, and he smiled in answer: _Yes, this was all right._ He reached for his partner's arms and tugged.

Edgeworth collapsed down, languid and exhausted.

Phoenix massaged his jaw, working out the numbness. Edgeworth shivered against him, and at once he wrapped his arms and legs around Miles, holding him to his chest, and let his chin rest atop those mussed bangs. Though his own cock ached for relief, he would not trade or tarnish this time afterward, when they clung together like no one else existed in the world.

He hoped Miles could hear his heart, beating fast for him.

The moment was broken when Phoenix's hips ground against his pliant partner, his composure cracking.

Edgeworth let out a wry chuckle. "That wasn't enough for you?" He sounded satisfyingly lethargic.

Phoenix shook his head, and his voice came out a bit hoarse. "I'll never get enough of you."

Edgeworth propped his chin on Phoenix's chest, staring at him with a tired, devious smirk. "Perhaps I should just leave you like this."

"Y-You wouldn't!"

That smirk widened. "Or make you experience the same treatment." His palm pressed against the bulge in Phoenix's slacks, eliciting a strained groan. But the corners of his eyes softened, and his expression melted into a teasing smile. "Bedroom. It would not do to stain the sofa."

With more grace than Phoenix could ever hope to have, Edgeworth stood and sauntered out of the living area, leaving his partner to follow.


End file.
